


The Sun Always Rises

by jenaicompris



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Female Protagonist, First Love, Friendship, Love/Hate, Major Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:59:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenaicompris/pseuds/jenaicompris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A twist on the Trevelyan origin. Female human(ish) mage Inquisitor from humble beginnings to the bitter end. Maybe. Cullen romance featured heavily. Previously titled <i>Bold Indeed</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Magic Exists to Serve Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preface-y goodness. Popped into my head and now it won't leave me alone. Also, in case anyone cares, "Aislinn" is pronounced a variety of different ways. For my purposes, I'm assuming it's "Ash-ling", in which case the shortened "Ais" is "Ash".

Aislinn Selanain was of two worlds in as many ways as most could fathom. Born to an elven servant in the Trevelyan household, Aislinn was both elf and human – both servant and noble. Both plain and a mage. She was kept at arm’s length by her father, but never too far. Not until she was noted as a mage, that is. In many situations, bastard elves are regarded with disdain and shoved off to the chantry as quickly as possible. Bann Trevelyan loved all of his children as much as he could muster and his wife, Lanya, was too preoccupied with raising her own children to bother with the elf kit that would never inherit land, title, or gold for as many reasons as there are days in a year. Aislinn knew of her origins as her mother hid nothing from her, although Ura often reminded her not to call the Bann father or to speak of their relationship. Their lives were as good as could be expected as servants; they were well-fed, clothed, and had a place to sleep with fewer rats than others.

Despite the fact that she was officially, and always would be, nothing but a servant Aislinn often found herself in the company of her half-brothers and –sister, of which there were three in total. Cyrill, the eldest and the one that was to inherit the bannorn, followed some time later by Beckett who was followed almost immediately by Evelynn. Aislinn was by far the youngest, although only a little over a year younger than Evelynn. She received the lady in training’s hand-me-downs when appropriate. Lanya was a tolerant woman, although she would not offer finery to a servant no matter her relation. It became apparent rather quickly, however, the Aislinn was quite a fair bit smaller than her full-blooded human siblings, both in size and personality. Although the Trevelyan children did not learn of their true relationship with the odd-looking red-headed playmate that was allowed to tag along, they treated her well until the day she was taken away.

They promised to write although, whether it was because they were forbidden or because she was forgotten, she never received a letter. Not even from her mother, who had cried and begged not to have her daughter taken away. All because she had healed Cyrill’s latest training wound, without truly trying, in front of Lanya.

Lanya did not send the girl away out of spite, though Ura would never believe it. It was not out of fear, either. Because of her misguided upbringing, Lanya believed that the Circles were necessary and good.  And it was this that kept her strong when her own daughter, perhaps a year after Aislinn’s removal, was carted off to Ostwick’s Circle of Magi too. Ura silently thanked the gods for their involvement and felt a little better at the woman’s pain, but not for long. It wasn’t in her nature to hold grudges, despite what harm Lanya had caused her in the past.

Aislinn was seven years old when she was taken to the Circle, halfway to her eighth birthday. She was merely days away from her ninth birthday when she was walking through the halls, still wide-eyed as she looked around at all of the stone-faced templars that guarded her from herself, and heard a familiar voice thought long lost.

“Sister?” came the call, the ten-year-old lady in training asked from between two such templars. She looked more like she was leading them than being led, her chin high as her mother would have wanted. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying but no tears marred her visage when Aislinn’s green-gray eyes alighted on the taller, darker image of her half-sister.

Evelynn had never called her ‘sister’ before, but Aislinn was not about to question it. The two girls ran at each other, wrapping their arms around what they could reach and burying their faces in the other one’s hair.

“Two mages in one family?” a templar remarked from beside them, the clinking of armor as he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked over the heads of the two girls, an easy feat, and caught the eyes of his companion.

“At least the little one will stop crying now,” came the response, a much harsher tone than the first.

Aislinn and Evelynn were eventually torn apart by the men so that Evelynn could have her phylactery created and Aislinn could go to her tutor session.

It was a blessing of epic proportions for Aislinn to have Evelynn, who now told everyone they were sisters despite Aislinn never having whispered a word of her true father, by her side in the Circle. Evelynn was the beauty and the charmer while Aislinn was the ever-studious mage, passing her Harrowing at the tender age of fourteen. Evelynn did not get the chance for a Harrowing as the Circles fell the month before the Enchanters would have believed her to be ready. By then, Aislinn was nearly eighteen and Evelynn was already nineteen.

In their attempt to flee and join the mage rebellion, a familiar templar from their years in the Circle stopped them at the door.

“You’ll die before you leave this place, half-blood,” the man, much older now with gray where his dark hair had once been, that had so hated her crying as a child lifted his massive sword. The Circle was all but in ruins; Evelynn and Aislinn had put off leaving as long as they could out of fear of the unknown. Where would they go? How would they live?

Aislinn could feel the drain in her mana before the light burst forth from him, slamming into her chest and sent her sprawling. Evelynn screeched from her side as her sister’s hand was ripped from hers, watching the petite girl being thrown across the stone floor.

The brunette roared with rage as the templar made to attack, calling down a haphazard pillar of fire directly onto his head. The scream he let loose sounded like the shrieking of a banshee but Evelynn didn’t have time to pay attention to him as she fell to the ground beside her sister.

“Ais,” she cooed, smoothing the half-elf’s red hair away from her forehead. Eyes the color of moss slowly fluttered open, the smell of burning flesh and the dying groans of the decimated templar drawing her gaze over her sister’s shoulders.

“He…”

“He’s dead, sister,” Evelynn assured her, checking the smaller girl for obvious wounds before she helped her to stand and collect their meager belongings. Aislinn had always been terrified of templars, from the moment they took her away. They utilized their larger size to intimidate her and it worked. Evelynn could not be put off by anyone in the world; she was born a Trevelyan, through and through, and held her head high as if she had never left her parents’ comfortable home.

The two girls, hand in hand, left Ostwick’s Circle of Magi for the last time, with the charred remains of the templar that had made their lives hell for the last decade all but forgotten.


	2. Life of Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the world comes crumbling down for our little Aislinn.

They spent some time in the wilderness, nearly dying between the creatures, the templars, and the lack of food. Neither of them had much experience with surviving without assistance. Some weeks after fleeing the Ostwick Circle, the girls had found themselves across the Waking Sea in Highever. They had travelled first to Amaranthine and then followed the coastline, along many small fishing towns, to the home of the Cousland line.

They heard much chatter about the peace talks taking place in at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and, after much consternation, were able to locate someone that would tell them exactly how to get there. After bartering and begging, they were able to gather mostly enough provisions for at least a leg of the trip. They carried on towards West Hill and confirmed that they were going in the right direction before they came upon Lake Calenhad. They could see the smoldering tower in the middle of the lake and knew, somehow, that it was the Circle. They could feel it in their aching bones.

“Sister, is this really necessary?” Evelynn asked as they trekked the Imperial Highway along Lake Calenhad. The Frostback Mountains could be seen to the east in the distance, rising far and away. They were halfway between Gherlen’s Pass and the place that they would remove themselves from the highway to start the trek up into the mountains.

“Yes,” Aislinn responded with a small smile up at the dark-haired beauty, looking into her half-sisters bright blue eyes. “It’s important, Evie.”

“But _why_ , Ais?” she frowned, tugging at her hair a little. Her curls were matted in a way that her mother would never have allowed before. They had bathed in Lake Calenhad two days before but it was cold and they didn’t have soap, and definitely not the soaps and oils they had when they were children – Evelynn moreso.  
  
"Because I want to be able to go home," Aislinn offered, shifting the pack on her shoulder a little. They had long-since sold their staffs, partially out of necessity and partially to hide their true selves. Practicing magic without a staff was harder but more rewarding. They tried not to use it when they could avoid it, especially around other people, but they were both growing far more proficient without the sticks to hold them back. 

" _Home_?" Evelynn intoned, eyes wide in shock. "Do you mean to Ostwick?"

She nodded a little. "Depending on how it goes, that could happen. We could be free. Properly free."

"Aren't we free now?"

"Do you truly believe I'd be welcomed back there? You, maybe."  
  
"Mother understands," Evelynn shook her head a little, frowning although the look on her face intimated that she didn't even believe the words as they left her mouth. "Perhaps you are right. But what purpose can we serve at the conclave? Why not wait for the outcome?"

Aislinn shook her head at her, sighing a little as she touched her sister's shoulder lightly. "We  _may_  not do anything productive but we  _can't_ if we aren't there. If the talks go sour and we weren't there, I will always wonder if we might have been able to help."

"How are you so...perfectly you?"

"Wouldn't have any idea how to be any other way."

The girls shifted their conversation to something else entirely. They would try and camp after sundown, which would leave them just the trek up the mountains to Haven the next day.

Aislinn lay on her back in the darkness, her sister's soft breathing ruffling her hair as they huddled together for warmth and protection. The stars above them glittered happily as if to say she was being silly, being worried about anything at all.   
  
 _Maker, guide me. Please give me strength to see this through. Help me to know that this is what is right and help to keep us safe_. She thought, half-whispered into the darkness before she snuggled into her sister and let herself drift into sleep.

* * *

 

The climb into the mountains the next morning was arduous but could have been worse; there was a clear footpath into Haven, the place where the pilgrims were allowed to rest their heads as well as their belongings while the discussions occurred. People gave the girls odd looks; predominately they were focused on Aislinn, but this wasn't anything new to her. Being of two worlds in more ways than one had always left her an outsider to most. Evelynn gripped her hand tighter as they were directed to a small house at the end of a road and told that they could leave their things there, rest if they needed. When they entered, there was already a large group of people - eight or so - camped there, all mages but not all women. Aislinn and Evelynn were both used to being in close quarters with others from their time in the Circle and so were bothered little when they holed up in a corner and munched on what little bread and cheese they had left from their travels.

The major event of the peace talks would occur the following day; the day they arrived was a day for conversation, for meeting, for discussion. People were milling about Haven, mages and templars, all looking a little travel-weary and a little concerned over their association with the others. Evelynn spent her time tagging along with her younger sister, making conversation with whichever mage was standing on the outskirts of a debate. Aislinn, for her part, inserted herself sideways into the discussions taking place. She spent most of her time listening and only spoke up when something really needed to be said. 

They were fed sometime late in the day and offered to bathe in the bathhouse some time after that. Then Aislinn had an idea.

"There's a meeting tonight," she told her sister, grabbing at her hand. "At the Temple. With the Divine. I just want to  _see_ her. Will you come with me?"

If the roles were reversed, Aislinn would have questioned if they were allowed to be there. Evelynn, instead, grinned her brilliant grin and agreed without question. They left Haven and followed the dimly lit path. The meeting had hundreds of people and the girls weaseled their way through the crowd. They stood for a long time listening before the Divine took her leave for the evening. The people stayed, praying and talking. More joined them, some left.

"Evie... I'm going to see if I can find her."

"Who?"

"The Divine. I want...I want to meet her."

Evelynn rolled her eyes and waved her away, "Go and speak to her then. I'll be...here. Finding something  _interesting_ to do."   
  
Aislinn smiled apologetically at her sister before she turned and made her way for the hallway the Divine had gone down. She was a devout Andrastean and had been all of her life, from the moment she could comprehend words to that very day. Her mother had taught her to fear in the Maker and to revere his bride, she knew quite a lot of the Chant of Light by heart, and had always dreamed of being able to meet the Divine. Evelynn, for her part, never understood Aislinn's fascination with religion but mostly didn't make much commentary on the subject. 

Aislinn wandered through the halls and found few to interact with. Everyone, the majority, were in the main hall or outside the temple all together. They were busy with other things and no one was brazen enough to seek out the Divine. It was a little out of character for her to do so, but it was something that meant a lot to her - and she doubted she would ever be this close to the woman again to get the chance. So she was going to take it.

* * *

 

Green light, terrifying templars chasing her up and up, a woman - the Divine? - reaching out her hand. More green light. Landing hard on stone, her body aching. Two men lifting her, and blackness.

When Aislinn woke again, her body ached from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. The concentration of pain was in her left hand and her eyes were gritty as she opened them. She jumped a little, seeing the slash of green like an open wound in the middle of her palm. And then her mind shifted to the shackles on her hands, and finally her sister.

"Evelynn?" she called. No response. Two women entered, two guards moving away from the door.

"My sister," she croaked, looking frantically up at the women. "My sister, she was at the conclave. Where are we? Where is she?"

"Likely dead," the dark-haired woman responded with an accent. Nevarran? Antivan? She couldn't remember, it had been a long time since she had the opportunity to speak to the nobility that had once visited her home in Ostwick. "The Temple is in ruins. Everyone is dead."

A sob escaped her throat and she lifted her hands to her face, covering her eyes. "Dead?" she squeaked, pulling her hands away as tears fell freely. "Evie...everyone? The Divine?"

"Yes. And you are the only one to survive."

Aislinn blinked at her, "But what-"  
  
"We want to know what you did," the redhead spoke, her voice accented as well. Orlesian? Tevinter? Likely the first. It didn't matter. 

"What...wait, you mean you think  _I_ did this? That I destroyed it? With my sister and the Divine inside? You're insane. I would never...Oh, Evie," she started again, clenching her jaw to keep from crying. Maybe...if she had survived, perhaps Evelynn could have too?

"Yes. And while you have slept, we had someone studying the Mark on your hand. You were seen exiting a Fade rift with a woman behind you. The Mark, we believe, has the potential to close the rifts."

"Rifts? What in the world are you talking about?"

"The explosion at the Temple tore open the Fade."

"How is that even possible?"

"You are asking us?" the dark-haired woman scowled, shoving her face into Aislinn's. Aislinn backed away a little and the unchained redhead put a hand on the other woman's shoulder. 

"Cassandra," she murmured.

The woman, Cassandra, stood and groaned in dissatisfaction. "Will you help us or not?"

"Help you do what?"

"Seal the rifts."

"I don't even know if I can. But I...of course." What else  _could_ she do? "But I need...I need to find my sister."

"You can search the rubble when we make the Temple," Cassandra offered and Aislinn felt a stab in her heart at the thought again. "Come, then. We have to make it to the forward camp and then find the others."

Cassandra jerked her into a standing position and led her from the prison, up through Haven's chantry and out into the sun. It burned Aislinn's retinas but that wasn't what struck her. Simultaneously as she saw the massive green pillar in the sky before her the pain in her left palm shot through her arm and she stumbled, unable to catch herself with the shackles. She groaned, collapsing to her knees and holding her arm against her chest. Cassandra turned and helped her to stand, a little less roughly. "Are you all right?"

"It hurts," she offered, staring at her hand as she held them both out in front of her. "But yes, thank you."

"It's killing you," the much taller woman frowned a little. "The mage that studied you, Solas, he believes it is poisoning you after a fashion. I am hoping that closing the rifts will help take away some of that from you. Save you."

"If my sister really is dead," she frowned a little, looking passed Cassandra at the swirling green in the sky, "it doesn't matter. But I will help in whatever way I can. You believe I caused this and I can't remember anything other than being in the Temple and leaving Evie to go look for the Divine. Even if I didn't do this, it looks...dangerous."

"It is. Demons, they are coming out of the rifts and attacking everyone." Cassandra paused, shifting her eyes to the other girl as they started towards the forward camp again. "You went looking for the Divine?"

"Yes. I always wanted to meet her and I thought...I don't know. I guess I thought I'd never get another chance." Aislinn sighed heavily, feeling cold and tired and so very, very sad.

Cassandra made some conversation, explaining why everyone was looking at her so oddly.   
  
"So everyone thinks I did this? Destroyed the Temple and killed all of those poor, innocent people?"  
  
She nodded as they passed the camping pilgrims that had survived. Halfway to a gate she collapsed again and Cassandra seemed to soften even more, even going so far as to apologize for the callous way she spoke to her about the death of her sister. She did not, however, apologize for accusing her of causing the rifts or the Breach.

As they made to cross a stone bridge, it collapsed beneath them and sent them tumbling. It took all of Aislinn's willpower to stand, her hands still bound by shackles in front of her. She was a prisoner and helpless as Cassandra told her to stay put. A demon had crashed with the shot of light down from the Breach, the green pillar in the sky, and was heading for them.

Cassandra was off fighting it when a bubbling blackness began to form on the icy surface of the lake in front of Aislinn and she stared, wide-eyed, as a shriek reared its ugly head. Without thinking she lifted her hands together, calling forth a burst of the ice her sister so envied and froze the beast in its tracks. She scurried away, putting distance between herself and the monster and shoved ball after ball of ice magic at it, once managing down a lightning bolt. Her mana was draining but the shriek was turning away from her, heading towards Cassandra who had all but bested the other creature.

When all was said and done, Aislinn approached Cassandra wearily with her hands dropped in front of her. She wore a wan expression, expecting a Holy Smite or something equally terrifying. Cassandra had her sword still raised and said, coldly, "Hold out your hands."

Aislinn closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for the slashing of the sword through flesh and bone. Instead she heard a ringing clink as the sword slashed through the metal of the chains on her wrists, tugging them down before the chain severed. 

"I haven't got the keys," Cassandra offered without a question from the other girl, sheathing her sword and turning away towards the footpath. "We should look for a staff for you. But you could have killed me a dozen times over and you have not tried. I clearly cannot protect you on my own. It is best that you have the ability to use both hands."

* * *

 

Forward and forward they pushed. It was freezing in the prison clothes she wore, although they were at least padded. They were not the greatest for facing down the demons that fell from the Fade but they protected her, mostly, from the bitter chill of the Frostback Mountains. They had not found a staff but Aislinn was fairing decently without it. She was thankful for what was probably months of practice since the Circle of Ostwick had dissolved and, as they neared the sounds of fighting that Cassandra assured her were their comrades, the Seeker - she had explained this to Aislinn, a little - stopped just short.

"What's your name?"

"Aislinn. Aislinn Selanain. Why?"

"I realized I did not know," was all the Seeker said before they pressed forward, rushing into a battle with soldiers and demons.

When the twisted creatures were felled, a man standing beside Aislinn grabbed her wrist and thrust her hand up, open-palmed towards the bizarre glowing green Fade presence and watched as a magic stream shot from the gash on her palm into it, the power shocking her to her very core. It made a humming noise as it shifted and collapsed in on itself, practically throwing her hand away as it snapped closed.

"I was correct," the man spoke, smiling just a little between pointed ears as Aislinn took her hand back.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, merely postulated a theory that you proved correct just now. You are, in fact, the one that did something."

"This thing in my hand, it closed the rift?"

"Indeed it did."

"Well that's good to know," another voice, low, spoke from behind her and she turned to see a dwarf with an impressive looking weapon that looked something like a bow. "Otherwise we would be rightly fucked."

Aislinn, used to such language from the Circle, merely ducked her head in greeting. "Glad I could...help?"

"Looks like you're the only one that can," he responded and, stepping closer, offered her his right hand to shake. "Varric Tethras, resident story-teller and, occasionally, unwanted tag-along."

"I'm Aislinn Selanain. It's a pleasure to meet you, messere."

"A Marcher!" He exclaimed, taking his hand back. "Whereabouts?"

"Ostwick. The Circle for most of my life."

"Kirkwall here. I had a friend that went to Ostwick once. Don't know any pirates, do you?"

Aislinn shook her head, smiling a little. "No, can't say that I have had the pleasure of meeting many, what with being locked in a tower for the last decade."

"It's a shame. She's a riot."

The man that had thrust her hand at the rift cleared his throat and she turned her attention to him, "If there are to be introductions, I am Solas. I am glad to know that you have awoken."

"What he means by that is he watched you while you were sleeping and kept the Mark from killing you," Varric grinned at her and Aislinn blushed a little at the idea.

"I...thank you. For  saving me, I mean."

Solas waved it off and didn't say anything further except to express that they needed to move. The First Rift was waiting.

* * *

 

Aislinn did not get a staff the entire trip; not even after they met up with Leliana and Chancellor Roderick, who very clearly wanted her head as much as the people back in Haven. Every step she took, Aislinn could not help but think that they were closer to finding Evelynn. She could still be alive. She had to be.

She opted to go through the mountain rather than join the soldiers on the field, justifying her decision. "There is a safety in numbers," she offered to Cassandra, "And if someone is still alive in the mountain pass, we can't leave them to die alone."

It appeared, she thought as she climbed the rickety ladders that led to the mine's entrance, Cassandra was perhaps beginning to trust her. Aislinn, of course, did not  _believe_ that she had caused the destruction of the Temple. She could not remember, not at all, what truly had but she didn't believe that it was her. She was glad that Cassandra might be coming around. Varric didn't seem to think she had done it either, which was nice. Solas watched her curiously, but she had absolutely no idea why. Most people did, though, so she was pretty used to it. _  
_

They fought through the demons in the mountain and found a few soldiers after closing a rift there. The woman's face softened when Aislinn told her that she couldn't have left her to die and she thought, perhaps, so did Cassandra's. On to the First Rift, then. On to finding Evelynn.

* * *

When she saw the body, arms curled and blackened jaw slackened in fear, she knew immediately. There were countless bodies all around them, under their feet, but that was _her._

“Evie!” she cried, throwing herself on the ground beside the mangled form of her older sister. The girl that had loved her unconditionally as her friend, as her sister, as her confident. She curved herself over the charred corpse of Evelynn Seraphina Lyanarra Trevelyan and sobbed, sending pulses of healing magic over her in a vain attempt to bring her back. “Oh, dear sweet Maker, my poor sister…Maker, please, bring her back to me.”

No one said anything for a long time as the young girl clung to the crumbling mess that had been a girl mere days before.

“Aislinn,” Cassandra finally cleared her throat, hating herself a little but unable to stop looking at the massive green tear in the sky.

The girl felt like her heart had been torn from her chest and when she stood she didn’t bother to dust off the ashes of her dead family from her clothes or skin. Her sister was matted to her tear-stained cheeks, coloring her with soot and ash from head to toe.

“She…” Aislinn started, hiccupping between sobs, “is…my sister.”

Again, they were silent for a long time before Aislinn let out a heavy sigh and set her jaw. “We have…I have to…” She shook her head and hesitated a moment before she removed her cloak and draped it over her sister, leaving her hand briefly over where Evelynn’s face had been. She would be chilled to the bone with the freezing mountain air but it didn’t matter, not a wit.

Her heart felt like it had erupted into a million tiny slivers and she wanted to curl into a ball against Evie’s form and just simply die.

But she had far too much to do. Like trying, desperately, to save the world and avoid being electrocuted by a massive Pride demon.

 


	3. Accursed by the Maker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I stole some conversation bits and also all of the bits of the Chant of Light are from the Dragon Age wiki.

When Aislinn woke after closing the First Rift, she laid where she was for a long time. She stared at the thatched ceiling above her, listening to her own breathing. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

Evie was dead. And it was all her fault.

She had begged her to go to the conclave, had asked her to go to the Temple. If only she had simply let her sleep and gone on her _own_ , her beautiful sister would still be alive.

She would have to write to the Trevelyans. _She_ would have to tell them that she had killed Evelynn. She should have listened to her and gone to their childhood home first, rather than going on this wild goose chase for freedom.

Freedom. Bah. What good was freedom without Evie to share it with? She curled onto her side and closed her eyes, the image of Evelynn’s charred corpse burning into her vision as she squeezed her lids closed tightly against the tears hat spilled without hesitation.

A knocking on the door roused her some time later and she groaned, rolling onto her back before turning and setting her bare feet on the wooden floor. She was dressed in different clothes and bathed, clean. The clothes were her own. She looked around the room, the knocking resounding again, and recognized the house as the one that she and Evie had used when they had first arrived in Haven.

“Come in,” she called without thinking, flinging herself into the corner that she had Evie had put their things in before leaving for the Temple. Their bags, mercifully, were still there. She dug through them, found the other dress Evie had brought with her, and held it up to her face as the footsteps approached her.

“Ashes?” came Varric’s voice and she turned her head up, the dress pooled in her lap and scrunched around her face, over her mouth. His mouth was turned down in a frown and there was a large metal container in his hands. An urn. “I brought you something.”

Aislinn, not really understanding his use of a nickname, let the dress fall into her lap and she reached out for the container. She opened it and looked inside. It was dark. She shifted her left hand over the lid and it alit the inside, showing black dust.

“You’ll probably want to seal it at some point,” Varric started, lifting a hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “But I just thought… I don’t know. It was stupid, sorry.”

Aislinn hugged the urn tightly to her chest before removing everything from her lap and standing, moving and bending a little to hug Varric tightly. Tears were streaking down her reddened face but she smiled a little. “It wasn’t stupid, Varric. It’s…the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Do you think the blacksmith could seal it?”

“Easily,” he responded, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Aislinn accepted it so well. He watched her a she lifted the urn and moved it over to the table, setting it far and away in the corner so that it couldn’t be knocked off before leaning down and pressing her lips to it. She then moved to the dress she had pulled out and folded it lovingly before sliding it back into the pack. She lifted everything from the corner and put it on the bed she had been sleeping on, taking a long piece of fabric from the pack she had taken the dress out of. It was another cloak.

“I have your cloak too,” Varric offered, “but it’s with Ruffles. She wanted to have someone fix it up for you.”

“Ruffles?”

“Oh, you haven’t met anyone yet, have you? Yeah, Cassandra actually wanted me to take you to the chantry too,” he gestured towards the door. Aislinn draped the cloak around her shoulders. It was clearly made for a taller woman  as it dragged behind her over the wooden floor and out onto the snow and dirt of Haven.

Aislinn stopped as they stepped outside, Varric closing the door quietly behind her as she was faced with all of Haven staring at her.

But in a different way. Not in the “You killed our religious leader” way, or even “You worthless half-blood” way. In a _reverent_ way.

“It’s the Herald of Andraste!” came the whispers and Aislinn ached to reached and grab her sister’s hand. Instead she clutched the cloak around her and tried to do what she thought Evelynn might have.

She tilted her chin up, set her shoulders back, and slid a smile into place before stepping down and out, walking through the crowd of people and towards the chantry as Varric led her, although she already knew where it was.

“You’re a natural, Ashes.”

If only he knew.

* * *

 

Varric left her outside the chantry, begging off to do something else important before she pushed in through the doors. There was no one inside, at least not that she could see - although there had been plenty of people in robes outside of the heavy main doors. She could hear the yelling from halfway across the main hall of the chantry and continued straight back when she heard Cassandra's voice raise above a man's. A familiar one. Chancellor Roderick.

She was told she was seen as the Herald of Andraste, asked to join the Inquisition.

She felt numb. Her sister was dead, none of this mattered. She was free but bound to this place because of the anchor her hand had become, dragging her into a situation she wanted no part of.

But she was the Herald of Andraste. 

As Cassandra and Leliana, the redhead with the Orlesian accent, waited for a response, Aislinn stared from one woman to the other.

_Maker, guide me._

"Yes," she finally responded and took a step forward, offering her right hand to Cassandra. "Yes. I will help."

And so the Inquisition was reborn. And so began the first day of the rest of Aislinn's life. She left the women to do whatever it was they needed to, wandering around in a daze. She met with Solas, found Varric, located the blacksmith and discussed sealing the urn. Brought it to him. Found dinner.

All the while, people stared.

Herald of Andraste.

She sighed heavily as she left Solas and started down the steps. She passed by a Chantry sister who was speaking to a man with pointed ears. He spoke of a verse about elves in the Chant and the Sister responded, quite harshly, that no such thing existed.

Aislinn stopped abruptly and turned, inserting herself between them and began in a clear voice:

"At Shartan's word, the sky  
Grew black with arrows.  
At Our Lady's, ten thousand swords  
Rang from their sheaths,  
A great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming:  
Those who had been slaves were now free."

She stopped, watching the look on the Chantry Sister's face briefly before she turned back to the elf man. "That is from the Canticle of Shartan. He was the elven leader of the rebelling slaves that followed and  _aided_ Andraste." She paused, blinking a little at the Sister before looking back to the man. "The verses aren't common but they are important. And so are you. Andraste loves all of the Maker's children, right, Sister?"

The Sister regained her composure after a long moment of silence before she bowed her head a little, "Yes, of course, Herald. As does the Maker."

Aislinn smiled and ducked her head before she set her right hand on the elf man's shoulder, "Trust in the Maker and He will guide you." She turned from them, feeling deflated and exhausted a she left them behind her. She  _was_ pious. She  _was_ dedicated, she  _was_ a believer. Everything she said was true and she felt it wholeheartedly inside of her soul - then why did it feel like she had just run across Thedas?

She wandered around Haven for some time, meeting others including Threnn and Adan, before a messenger came to find her to let her know that she was requested in the chantry. She found a group of people in the room she had been in earlier, Leliana and Cassandra among them. A man and a woman had joined them.

He terrified her from their first meeting. Somehow she had missed him on the battlefield, perhaps because they had gone through the mountain pass. It was not until she was facing him down in the War Room of Haven that she came face to face with him and was shaking in her boots.

He was a presence, a force to be reckoned with. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen, noble or soldier, and he was so perfect it hurt her eyes.

In fact, she blinked at him and ducked her head a little, forcing down the shy smile as he introduced himself. She half-curtseyed, not realizing where she was at first.

Despite the fact that she was born to an elven servant woman, she had been raised to be a young lady until she was taken to the Circle and continued studying such pleasantries alongside her magic - mostly due to her sister's influene. She knew how to act in court, how to rain down an ice storm unlike you had ever seen – but she did not know how to talk to boys.

Or men, in the case of Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford.

And he _terrified_ her. And enthralled her, as if he were the mage and not the ex-templar.

Josephine - or Ruffles, as Varric called her - was sweet and kind. She informed her that her cloak was being adjusted a little, cleaned and stitched up. She complimented the cloak that Aislinn had over her shoulders. A rich brown velvet slashed with smooth yellow, the colors of House Trevelyan. Complimented her hair, wild as it was. Aislinn blushed. She had done Evelynn's hair for years and her sister had done the same since arriving at the Circle. Aislinn hadn't even thought of her hair since she found her sister missing and then dead.

They needed to go to the Hinterlands and find Mother Giselle. Aislinn decided they could go the following morning and Leliana's scouts would go ahead and protect the Mother until they could arrive.

After finding something to eat that evening, Aislinn wandered towards the blacksmith to find out of he had finished after she located a logging stand and the notes for Adan. On her way back, she passed by the training men and women under Cullen's command. She tensed visibly as she passed, noticing Templar armor among them. She could  _feel_ the lyrium vibrating in their veins.

"For heaven or for earth, for sea or sky.  
All that existed was silence.  
Then the Voice of the Maker rang out,  
The first Word,  
And His Word became all that might be:  
Dream and idea, hope and fear,  
Endless possibilities.  
And from it made his firstborn.  
And he said to them:  
In My image I forge you,  
To you I give dominion  
Over all that exists.  
By your will  
May all things be done."

She murmured the verse to herself, frozen in the middle of the group of soldiers. They paid her little or no mind at all until the massive form of Commander Cullen darkened the sky in front of her.

"Herald? Are you all right?"

Aislinn jumped visibly at his approach, turning her head up to look into his gold-brown eyes. "I..yes. Just..." She stopped, shaking her head a little. "Just thinking, Commander."

"Was that Threnodies I heard?"

She nodded a little, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. "I find comfort in the Chant when I cannot find it elsewhere."

He hesitated a long moment, eyes searching her face for something. "I prefer Transfigurations myself."

Aislinn smiled at him before opening her mouth and reciting another verse:

"All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,  
From the lowest slaves  
To the highest kings.  
Those who bring harm  
Without provocation to the least of His children  
Are hated and accursed by the Maker."

"Have you got the whole thing memorized?" He asked - not a condemnation, he was genuinely curious.

"Mostly. It was how I learned to read when I was a child and after that, in the Circle..." She paused, pulling a face. "I did not have many friends. While my sister was off..." She stopped, trying desperately not to cry at the memories. She shook her head, waving her hand. "I apologize. I...lost her."

"During the rebellion?" he asked, frowning at her sadness. Despite his concern over her mood change, it was clear that the mention of the mage rebellion changed his own mood to a slightly more sour one.

She shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh as she pulled the cloak tighter about her. "We were both at the conclave."

Cullen's reaction pulled at her heart strings and the sorrow on his face mirrored her own. "I am very sorry, Herald. I have sisters of my own. I can only imagine."

"Only the Maker knows His plan," she responded, trying desperately to believe the words as she spoke them, "I must trust in His decision. He has made many that I have questioned but it isn't my place to do so."

"Would you mind..." he hesitated, eyes glancing to the side to watch a recruit. "...Do you believe you are truly the Herald of Andraste?"  
  
She shrugged a little. "I don't know, Commander. I would like to believe I am but all I know is that the Mark means that I can help people. Whether or not I am a prophet, I am a child of the Maker and I will do whatever He needs of me."

"We are lucky to have you either way, Herald. The Inquisition needs you and as the Inquisition we are able to do far more than we would be able to do as a part of the chantry. Having been a templar for-" He stopped, smiling a little sideways. "You likely didn't come here for a lecture."

Aislinn smiled back at him, "Perhaps I did. I have always been an exemplary student. If you have one prepared, I would love to hear it."

His own smile widened a little and he let out a soft chuckle. "Another time then, perhaps." 

"I'd like that," she offered and he stammered a response before they were interrupted by a recruit that needed his attention.

Aislinn let out a sigh like she had been holding her breath the entire conversation; found that she was shaking from the inside out and that her heart was beating like a rabbit's as she moved away from the soldiers towards the blacksmith with the sun threatening to set to her right. 


	4. Judge Me Whole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mykki for the comment/bookmark and to all the lovely people that gave me kudos. I hope you're enjoying this!
> 
> Cullen's age is based on information from the DA:O Toolset and could be inaccurate but it works for me.

 

Every time Aislinn was able to find herself in Haven, she spent time with the urn full of Evelynn’s ashes. She had written and rewritten the letter for the Trevelyans a million times; every morning she wasn’t out gallivanting about, truth be told.

Eventually she asked Varric into her home and showed him the pile of letters scattered over her bed. “I don’t know what to do, Varric. I can’t…I have tried to write this damnable letter for the last two months. By the time I actually find something to say, they’ll all be dead too.”

“Stop thinking about it so much,” he offered, leaning down with his hands behind his back to skim the letters. “There is no good way to tell someone the news that you have to share.”

She paused, hand on top of the metal canister that held her sister’s remains. “I’ve been thinking…should I send them this? They’re her real family.”

“What do you mean?”

Aislinn removed her hand from the urn and moved over towards Varric, glancing towards the door to make sure it was closed. “Can you keep a secret, Varric?”

“I can’t promise it won’t show up in a novel someday, but I won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

“Good enough, I guess,” she responded and started to pick up all of the letters into another pile and told him the truth. All of it.

It was some time later, at which point they were both sitting beside one another on her bed with the letters piled on her desk again.

“Shit, Ashes,” Varric shook his head, scratching the back of it after a moment. “That’s heavy. But she’s still your sister. She’s as much your sister as anyone ever was anyone’s, by my estimation.”

“Still,” she frowned a little, despite the fact that what he said made her feel warm. “I feel like they don’t know that so they wouldn’t understand why I would keep it.”

“They won’t know you have it unless you tell them.”

“It isn’t right. They loved her too.”

“You spent almost more of her life with her than they did.”

Aislinn acknowledged what he said but shook her head regardless. “I’m sending it to them, I’ve decided. I have her cloak and all of those memories. I got ten years of life with her that they didn’t and it just seems…I don’t know, wrong to keep it. Especially when I’m almost never here.”

Varric smiled at her and patted her hand before he slid off of the bed and moved towards the door. “That’s a girl. Just use that logic to write your letter and you’ll be all set. I’ll have a messenger come by in about an hour to gather everything.”

So Varric left her and Aislinn settled into her desk, looking up at the sealed urn every few minutes as she penned a final letter to her long-lost family, and one for her mother.

The messenger came just when Varric said she would and not a moment before, a tiny little elven woman with short brown hair. She jumped when she saw her and bowed low, shaking like a leaf.

"Why are you so afraid?" Aislinn smiled a little at the girl that was only a hair shorter than she was as she turned to look at her. 

"I...uhh...oh, forgive me, Herald," she stammered, throwing herself at the feet of Aislinn, who put her hand on the girl's arm to gently lift her.

"You don't have to do that, friend. Come on, get up off the floor. There's no need for all that. What's your name?"

"Bethyl," the girl replied as she came to stand. Aislinn realized as she looked over her face that she was likely some years older than she was herself and felt silly for a moment. She knew that Cullen's initial reaction to her own young face had been a questioning one.

 _She's so young_ , he had breathed as he saw her, before he said any other word to her. It had taken a while for that to sink in for Aislinn, some time after she had first spoken to him. She was probably at least sixteen years younger than he was. He had been thirteen when he joined the Order, she had learned through conversation. Assuming he was twenty-four when he was transferred to Kirkwall, another ten years in Kirkwall. 

But she was distracted and caught herself as she realized that Bethyl was staring at her expectantly. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized, smiling a little as she offered her the sealed envelope (something Varric had arranged to be sent to her) and the urn, wrapped now in packaging and tied with twine (also something Varric had sent over). "This needs to be delivered to Bann Trevelyan in Ostwick as quickly as possible." She reached into the purse on the desk and took out three gold pieces, offering them to Bethyl.

The dark-haired elf shook her head, "You don't need to pay me, Herald."

"You are doing me a service, indeed I do," Aislinn pressed the gold pieces into her hand and closed the woman's fingers over them. "Please take good care of the package. It is very important."

"Master Tethras told me," Bethyl nodded once, offering a small smile before she bowed her head, "I will be very careful, Herald."

"Thank you. And travel safely, Bethyl."

 

* * *

"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder."

Aislinn sighed a little as she stood beside the lake of Haven, staring out across iced-over surface in the dying sunlight.   
  
"Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond..."

Beside Aislinn, the snow crunched and a warm figure darkened the space there, towering over her. She could feel the gentle hum of lyrium deep in the back of her mind and turned her head to see the dangerously handsome profile of the ex-templar.

"...For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost." 

He finished the verse, letting out a heavy breath that created puffs in the cold mountain air. His armor was gone, his clothing a deep burgundy in the fading light. 

Aislinn always spoke to him when she was given the opportunity. He was kind and stammered when she asked questions that probably weren’t appropriate, like about vows of celibacy. He was strict when he spoke of the Templars; he sounded angry when he spoke about mages.

But he didn’t seem angry at _her_.

She still shook after she left his presence; he was never intimidating to her directly, never threatened her but his mere existence set her on edge for more reason than one. 

She wore a simple dress of dark brown and her sister's cloak, as she often did. Pulling the cloak tighter around her, she looked back up at Cullen from the horizon in front of her. When she turned, his gaze was already on her.

"I saw your messenger leaving earlier, Herald," is what he said.  _Are you okay?_ is what he meant.

"Yes. I spoke to Varric about everything and have decided it is best to send both word and...what remains of my sister to her family."

Cullen's eyebrows knitted together at her word choice and she winced a little,  but she didn't want to lie to him. Instead of asking for her to clarify, he merely watched her.

"I...Well, I suppose you might as well know. I'm surprised the Spymaster hasn't already discovered the truth or that she hasn't shared it. I was born to a servant in the Trevelyan's household," she began, looking away from Cullen as she continued, "and...well, my father is Bann Trevelyan. Evelynn never knew. She called me her sister because we grew up together and because I was all she had when she was brought to the Circle. But she didn't know how right she was. None of them do. Or at least did, I have no idea what they think of me now."

"This is...not a subject on which Leliana and I often speak," Cullen responded in a quiet voice and Aislinn could feel his gaze on the side of her face. She did not turn to look at him, though. "But I...appreciate you telling me."  _Thank you for trusting me_.

"It only seemed right, otherwise I would have had to lie to you. I cannot lie, and especially not to you. I do apologize if this is...difficult to process. I have only told one other person and that was Varric, earlier today. I needed to tell someone because I was never able to tell her."

"You may use my ear whenever you wish, Herald," he offered and Aislinn turned, smiling at him a little. "And know that my opinion of you has not changed in the slightest."

"I...Thank you, Commander."

"Of course."

They stood in silence for some time as the sun continued its achingly slow descent, their breathing creating small clouds in the air in front of their faces. There were many sounds around them but between them there was nothing but peace.

 

 


	5. No Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read numerous things lately that suggest that the offspring of an elf/human pairing would result in a very human looking child. I call bullshit. Just so you know.

Thrust into a dark future, all Aislinn could think about was what happened to Cullen. She was, of course, incredibly concerned about Iron Bull and Blackwall and when she found out Leliana was there, there wasn't a force in all of Thedas that would keep her from finding the woman. She felt sick around the red lyrium and hated Alexius more than she thought she could hate anyone other than the person that blew up the conclave.

But the entire time, in the back of her mind, she wanted to know what became of Cullen.

"They've all died," Leliana informed her as they made their way to a secure location to try their hand at travelling forward.

Everyone was dead.

"C..."Aislinn couldn't even finish his name. She shook her head and simply said, "No," before she pressed forward. "Dorian, we have to fix this."

And then she watched as the last of her friends were slaughtered before her eyes to save her. She thought she would vomit when they stumbled back through a portal like the one they had been sent through, coming to stand in front Alexius one more. A now very surprised Alexius.

Aislinn was quiet, moreso than normal, on the trek back to Haven from Redcliffe. The images of her sister's charred corpse something like six months later was now being replaced  by the destroyed bodies of Blackwall, Iron Bull, and Leliana. And Dorian was the only one that understood.

She was slightly apprehensive about Dorian when she first met him based solely on the fact that he was from Tevinter. All she had ever heard was how terrible the place was, especially for elves. But spending what little time she had with him, seeing how much he wanted to help her right the wrongs Alexius committed - that made her believe that maybe he was okay. 

The first thing she had done after they had committed the mages to their cause and spoken to the King was hug her companions. Both of the warriors looked a little taken aback, although Bull warmed quickly too it.

"What was that for, Boss?" he asked as she pulled away and started towards their horses. 

Aislinn shrugged a little, "I appreciate you both."

"No hug for the Vint?" Bull asked, side-eyeing Dorian.

The girl stopped and turned before pulling their newest companion into a hug. She held him tightly and for longer than she had the other two. His personality, or what she had seen so far, reminded her of Evelynn and she wanted to hold onto him until he pushed her away. He did not. 

"Thank you, Dorian," Aislinn smiled up at him a little, the tears in her eyes only visible to the other mage. He watched her for a moment before his lips curled into a charming grin beneath his exceptional mustache and then they moved to mount their horses and ride the rest of the day back to Haven.

 

* * *

"Maker, my enemies are abundant.  
Many are those who rise up against me.  
But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,  
Should they set themselves against me."

Aislinn murmured the verse as she walked the long hall of the chantry towards the War Room, meeting her advisers to discuss the latest happenings. She knew Cullen and would not approve of her choice in aiding the mages - truth be told, neither had Bull but he wouldn't say much. Originally, she didn't intend on choosing that day. She had gone to Redcliffe because of a confluence of events and found herself faced, in the end, with holding the lives of all of the free mages that had left the Circles at Fiona's word in her hands. King Alistair could not abide the mages after what Fiona had done and Aislinn knew that but it didn't mean she appreciated the extra weight on her shoulders. 

She couldn't turn the mages away; they wouldn't have any fortune anywhere else, especially not in such numbers. There was no where for them to go and Aislinn couldn't fathom forcing Fiona to take all of that responsibility, even if it was truly her fault. 

She sighed heavily as she reached out and pressed the thumb pad down, her fingers curled through the handle before she leaned into the wood and let the door open in. Leliana, Josephine, Cassandra, and Cullen stood around the table and looked up when she entered. 

"The mages should be arriving soon," Aislinn said, and watched Cullen deflate a little. "They are meant to be our allies and they will be treated as such."

Cassandra frowned deeply but Leliana looked pleased. Josephine merely look harried as she contemplated where in Haven she could possibly fit over a hundred new people.

"The templars in our recruits will likely not respond well to this," Cullen offered, frowning a little.

"They will learn," Aislinn responded quietly, steady but not forceful. "We will all learn how to live with one another whether we be mage, templar, human, elf, dwarf or Qunari. All creatures are children of the Maker and it is our responsibility as such to fix what has happened."

"You certainly  _sound_ like a prophet," Josephine commented, a dark eyebrow lifted as she scribbled something on the paper alight by the candle in her writing board contraption.  _  
_

Aislinn waved her off as gently as one could and then proceeded to tell them the truly important information - about the Tevinter magister, about the Elder One, and about some of the potential future. She didn't want to tell them too much - it wouldn't do to put that on their shoulders. 

She left them after a long, long while feeling a little better and a little worse all at the same time. 

At least they would be able to attempt to close the Breach soon, once the mages arrived and got settled.

For the time being, they would continue on and do what needed to be done to help protect the Maker's children.

* * *

 

"I would ask if you think the whole Herald thing is going to your head, but the entire time I've known you, you've been pretty much the same," Varric spoke over a pint in The Singing Maiden. Sera snorted from his side.

"You're not super elfy, but you are super Heraldy. All 'Andraste' this and 'Maker' that. But it works. You believe, yah? So it works." Sera blew a chunk of her light hair from her eyes before she lifted the mug to her lips, shrugging.

Aislinn's pale pink lips curled up at the corners every so slightly; Dorian approached from the side, Bull too. The latter tugged over a chair and settled in, Blackwall at the bar getting another round. That was to be the end of the influx of people that evening and if it meant no one would talk about mages, Aislinn would be okay with it. 

Before Varric, Aislinn had never had alcohol before. She was too young when she was home and it was too dangerous when she was at the Circle, as rare as it was to come by. At first she had trouble letting go enough to drink much more than half a mug but slowly he had convinced her into giving it a shot and eventually she found that she actually quite enjoyed being tipsy.

"What did you mean, Varric?" she asked as Dorian slid onto the bench beside Aislinn and didn't mind a whit that there was a clearly used mug in front of him, Blackwall's in fact. When the Warden returned to table he glanced to where he had been seated before he pulled over a chair and made room on the end closest to the Herald.

"I may or may not have heard about your little 'accept the mages, accept everybody because the Maker says so' speech," he lifted and lowered his shoulders in a shrug before taking a long swig. "Not that it matters to me, but you have to walk a fine line to make sure people don't think you've gone off the deep end."

"I'll keep that in mind," she responded before hiding her face in her mug and downing a goodly portion of her ale. 

They spent the evening playing cards, drinking, and talking. It was magnificent. Some of them would leave the next morning on a short mission and by the time they returned, the mages would be prepared to seal the Breach. Aislinn, among others, was quite thankful for the evening of forgetting.

* * *

 

"Many are those who wander in sin,  
Despairing that they are lost forever,  
But the one who repents, who has faith,"

Aislinn began, seated beside the lake in the snow, her cloak pulled around her. The sun was slowly rising on the morning that she would try to close the Breach. 

"Unshaken by the darkness of the world,  
And boasts not, nor gloats  
Over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight  
In the Maker's law and creations, she shall know  
The peace of the Maker's benediction."

She let out a sigh, her air blowing out in a smoky puff from the coolness of the morning air. Crunching snow let her know that someone approached and she recognized the armored outline of her Commander as he came to stand near her. She made to stand but he put out his hand and then slowly lowered himself down to sit beside her.

"Good morning, Herald," he smiled a little in the darkness, offering out his hand with a warmed mug of liquid to her. She took it with a thank you and sipped on the watery caffe, something that Vivienne all but demanded be made. 

"How did you know I would be here?"

"It is the easiest place to find you," he responded as he sipped his own drink.

"We weren't allowed outside in Ostwick," she offered, eyes cast out over the lake. "I know it's been...well, close to a year since Evie and I left, but I still...I just need to know I can."

"Was it particularly bad?"

"I have no real point of comparison, although I can tell you my experience was far different from Vivienne's." Aislinn hesitated before sighing a little, wrapping her bare hands around the warm wood of her cup. "It wasn't all bad, although Minaeve's experiences with templars is far different from  my own."

Cullen stiffened a little; he knew that the elf apprentice appreciated and respected templars for what they did. 

"Don't get me wrong...intellectually I understand that templars are just people, each one different, with a particular set of skills and a..task in life. But I have met many more disagreeable ones in my life than good. One nearly killed me before Evie and I left Ostwick. It was like he was waiting just for us."

"What happened?"

"Evie killed him," she responded in a simple tone. "He performed a Holy Smite and I was completely unable to move. We weren't doing anything, just leaving. We were told we could."

Cullen didn't say anything for a long moment before he murmured, "I am sorry but I assure you that not all templars are like that."

"I know. It has taken me a long time, but I know. And thank you."

"Why?"

"You are a major part of that reason." She turned her head and smiled at him, reaching out and touching his pauldron-covered shoulder for a  brief moment before she took back her hand. "But I apologize. I imagine that you came to see me for a reason."

"Today is the day, is it not?" He spoke after a moment, head turned to look at her when she turned to look at him.

She nodded, "Yes. We will leave after breakfast."

"Are you frightened?" 

She nodded again, "I would be a fool not to be. When I closed the First Rift, I was knocked out for three days. This could kill me, if the past is any indicator."

"The Light shall lead her safely  
Through the paths of this world, and into the next." 

Cullen started, watching for her reaction. Aislinn smiled at him and waved her hand, gesturing for him to continue. She could listen to him talk for hours.

"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.  
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,  
She should see fire and go towards Light.  
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,  
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."

 


	6. Songs of the Cobblestones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mykki and TaywuhsaurusRex for your comments, to SweetAssassin for the bookmark, and thank you to those who have read, especially to those that have left kudos. Finally, some fluff! Just a teensy bit, though, unfortunately. We have a snow day from work today so maybe I'll get another one written later. Or two.

The Breach was sealed and Haven was celebrating. Cassandra was ecstatic but Aislinn was worried.

Too easy, she thought. It's just too easy.

And then the warning bell sounded. The call of "Under attack!" had Aislinn scrambling to find the Commander, hoping he had some sort of plan. Any kind of plan.

A boy, by appearances not much older than Aislinn herself who was now on her way to nineteen, informed her that it was the Elder One's doing and that he wanted her dead. So they fought and they fought and he, Cole, told her what would happen. And Cullen told her that there was no saving Haven. 

And she knew what she had to do.

The look the Commander gave her was a sad one when she offered to protect Haven. His golden eyes steeled themselves briefly in her line of sight before she ducked her head and disappeared into the night.

When Aislinn discovered the truth of what the Elder One was, or at least what he claimed to be, she kept a running stream of the Chant going through her mind to drown out her fear. She waited, biding her time as he spoke until she was able to do the only thing that would save the people over the mountain top, once the signal had been sent. 

And she buried herself, along with Haven, in the snow and thought that maybe she would finally be able to join her beloved sister.

* * *

It was Cullen's voice that greeted her as she nearly died; she was frozen from the inside out. And it was his warm body she was pressed to as he gathered her shivering body to him, carrying her daintily to the camp they had created.

It was Cullen's voice that pulled the words from her lips as the camp burst into song:  
  
"The night is long  
And the path is dark  
Look to the sky  
For one day soon  
The dawn will come."

It was Cullen's eyes that followed her as Solas pulled her away, telling her of the fortress that he had found that would serve them well. And it was Cullen that pushed with her, rallying the troops and the civilians towards their new home.

* * *

After they found Skyhold, she sought him out. After they named her Inquisitor, it was he that she went to. She fumbled with her words.

“I am glad that you…that everyone…” she hesitated, feeling the rage of embarrassment in her face. The skin of her pale, freckled cheeks nearly matched the color of her flaming red hair. She shook her head a little. “It is a comfort to me to know that you are safe. That the Inquisition is safe.”

He looked sad, desperately sad. She wasn’t afraid of him in that moment. Because of this, she smiled a little.

He frowned. “You stayed behind. You could have…”

“But I didn’t. And neither did you.” She smiled a little wider and he allowed himself to do so, if only slightly.

“I will not allow that to happen again, Inquisitor.”

“I...Aislinn, please, Commander.”

“Cullen, then.”

“Very well, Cullen,” she responded, shifting her moss colored eyes from his golden ones as she turned away, moving towards the stone steps.

She halted. Her palms were sweaty on the banister and she turned, looking over at the man whose face set her aflame. He was already trapped by another, busy being the man that she needed at the head of her army. Letting out a quiet sigh, she made to complete her ascension. Before she could turn her head completely, however, his eyes lifted to hers.

She smiled and turned her head at last, hair falling in rippling sheets to hide her cheeks.

Aislinn, like Cullen, had curly hair – although the latter took great pains to keep his self-proclaimed unruly hair in check. Aislinn, on the other hand, only wore her hair up in battle. She babied it as much as one could in her situation; it was nothing like when she was a child, but a fair bit better than what it was like in the Circle. Both Josephine and Vivienne doted on her desire to keep herself well-groomed, had from the first mention of it out of Aislinn’s lips. Solas thought she was silly; Varric didn’t make a comment on it, and neither did Cole. Bull said he liked redheads and Blackwall looked at her like she pained him. Sera seemed to approve but Cassandra thought she was preening. Which, maybe, she was. Leliana didn’t say a thing about pretty much anything. And, although she caught Cullen looking at her from time to time, the Commander never commented either.

She ran into him again and they made small talk; genial conversation about life and the Inquisition. Aislinn found herself with a question to ask.

“Did you…leave anyone behind?”

He seemed confounded by the question, although he recovered quickly. “In Kirkwall? No, no… I… did not have many friends there. I have family here, in Ferelden. They moved to South Reach after the Blight.”

“When this is all over, will you go back to them?”

Cullen stalled and he followed as Aislinn stepped away, bringing him slowly on a walk. They moved towards the stairs, slowly ascending to the ramparts.  “I honestly hadn’t thought much about it. And you? Will you return to Ostwick?”

“I suppose it depends entirely on what happens with the mages,” she responded, shrugging a little. “I can’t make any plans until I know where I will be welcome.”

“If you stayed with the Inquisition, no one could touch you.”

“I suppose that’s true. At least for a time. Until someone decides I’m too big for my breeches and tries to take me down a peg.”

“No,” he responded without missing a beat. “I mean, no one would allow that. I most certainly wouldn’t.”

“Are you going to save me all the way from South Reach?” and her cheeks colored to match her hair.

“I could stay with the Inquisition.” His voice spoke volumes and she smiled at him, shyly but genuinely.

“No need to make any rash decisions yet. We still have a lot of work to do. And I am sure, Commander, you will want a family someday.” She looked away, glancing back at him for a reaction.  “But, of course, you are always welcome here.”

“Cullen,” he corrected, at a loss for words. “And…thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You are irreplaceable.”

She swore up and down, under his breath, she heard, “You just said that…” but before she could ask him, someone came up to her with a work order that Josephine insisted she be a part of. She waved lamely at him before she turned her attention to the young woman that had approached her with the paper she was meant to read and sign.

“Sorry, Commander. We will…speak later.” 

 

 


	7. They Who Stand Before

The life of the Inquisitor was not a difficult one within the walls of Skyhold, a least for the most part. Aislinn found it tiresome some days but she was rarely in Skyhold long enough for it to bother her all that much.

The elf that Varric had sent to Ostwick for her had returned maybe two weeks after they found Skyhold; she had managed to discover through word of mouth where they had gone, as many new recruits to the Inquisition made their way to the new fortress every day.

Bethyl was not alone. A tall man and a small woman, the latter clearly an elf with the same vibrant hair as Aislinn, stopped short of the throne upon which the Inquisitor sat. She was turned to speak to Josephine but caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to face the new arrivals.

She was shocked into silence for a long moment before she let out a questioning sigh of, "Mother?" and the woman that had birthed her nodded, a bright grin on her face as the Inquisitor abandoned all semblance of reservation and all but flung herself into her mother's arms.

The man cleared his throat after a few minutes and Aislinn stood back, looking up at him. His face was familiar, covered in dark scruff.

"It can't...Cyrill?" she asked, wide eyes even wider before she wrapped her arms tightly around him and hugged for dear life. He let out a chuckle and embraced her back, resting his chin atop her head as he slouched his shoulders to hold her. "What are you doing here?"

"Father insisted," he responded as he let her go. "Beckett is on his way with a contingent of soldiers for your army. He and I will serve as envoys for a time. Ura insisted on coming, despite how dangerous it might be."

"He's right, Mamae. You shouldn't have come."

"My baby is free from that awful Circle and you expect me not to come help you? Clearly this place need's a mother's touch," Ura clucked her tongue, reaching out to smooth down her daughter's hair.

Josephine set about making arrangements for Cyrill and Ura, as well as the incoming soldiers and Beckett. Aislinn paid Bethyl handsomely before she showed her mother and half-brother around Skyhold and told them everything there was to know. She introduced them to those that they ran into and eventually brought them to Herald's Rest for a drink and some stew.

* * *

 Aislinn was able to stay at Skyhold until Beckett and the new contingent of soldiers arrived, allowing her time to catch up with her childhood friends as well as her mother. She spent little time with anyone else, although had plenty of actual work to do. Cyrill made himself helpful by assisting in repairs and discussing some options with Josephine, while Ura took to the kitchens to make sure that they were doing everything the most efficient way possible.

Both men would have to leave shortly after she arrived back to the fortress but Aislinn was assured that either one or both of them would be returning in the future. Bann Trevelyan intended on making a very public alliance with the Inquisition. 

 While Aislinn was gone, Lady Montilyet organized a feast to celebrate the Trevelyan men and their aid to the Inquisition. When Aislinn arrived back nearly two weeks after leaving, there was a dress made for the evening and a bath drawn to help her ready herself. Ura was waiting when she was clean.

"My beautiful child," the older woman smiled as she combed through her daughter's hair in front of the vanity Josephine had provided. Once it was free of snarls, Aislinn managed to dry it mostly by use of magic and Ura, surprised but not saying anything about the magic to her, began to pile it atop her head for the evening. 

"Thank you, Mamae. You should have seen Evelynn, she was the most beautiful woman."

"I am certain she was," Ura offered, catching her daughter's eyes in the mirror. "I was sorry to hear about her."

"Was the Bann upset with me?" Aislinn asked, frowning a little at her mother's reflection.

"Of course not, da'len," Ura smoothed the dressing gown on Aislinn's shoulder as she spoke one of the few elvhen words she knew. "And neither was the Lady. They both understand that what happened was not your fault because it wasn't, Aislinn. It was no more your fault than your hair color is. It is a terrible thing that she is gone, and everyone is sad for it. But we're all glad you're still here, da'len."

Aislinn nodded a little, swallowing hard because of the tears in her eyes. Ura changed the subject and began to speak about the people she had met while her daughter was gone, telling a few stories that had Aislinn laughing by the time she was being laced into her corset.  It was a sleek velvet dress, dark brown in color and slashed with yellow for House Trevelyan. The chocolate color made her skin look like it glowed and popped the freckles on her cheeks a little, making her mossy eyes bright in her slender face. A gold chain accentuated her waist, dropping in the front and a long strand fell down against the fabric between her legs. The lining around her chest and the inside of the long bell sleeves seemed to be made of yellow silk. Her hair was pulled back from her forehead, braided after a fashion down her left side, with a long curl framing her face on the right. A small golden band, signifying her position as Inquisitor, sat just behind her hairline. Ura applied a little of the make-up that Vivienne had given the girl for the evening - it was a practice run for the Orlesian ball that she would have to attend in the coming months, no need to show their hand too early.

Ura dressed herself after in a much more demure outfit, a blue dress as to not be confused with being a member of the house. Aislinn wore the colors for her sister and no other reason, although Ura was surprised at her boldness. Josephine had chosen correctly. 

When the women finally descended to the main hall, decorated with steed paraphernalia to represent House Trevelyan and adorned with the house colors, every head in the room turned to see the Inquisitor in her finery.

"Our Lady Herald," Josephine bowed at the waist and the rest followed. Aislinn waved her hand dismissively, and smiled before she shook her head.

"Tonight, I am just Aislinn, friend to House Trevelyan."

They ate, they danced - Aislinn danced every song, alternating between Cyrill and Beckett and sometimes being shared. She laughed unlike she had laughed in the presence of her comrades, dissolving into the little girl of seven she had been the last time she had seen them all of those years ago.

At one point, Cyrill and Beckett lead Aislinn to the dais slowly and she barely noticed when Cyrill called the hall to attention. Nobles and many of the officers of the Inquisition were in attendance and turned their attention when the would-be bann spoke.

"Members of the Inquisition, ladies and gentlemen of the nobility - there must needs be an announcement here this evening. For years, a wrong has been done to this wonderful young woman, this beautiful and magnificent hero," Cyrill spoke, draping an arm around Aislinn's middle and pulling her close to his side. "This young woman wept for our sister after the conclave and we wept in Ostwick that our Evelynn died not knowing the truth."

"Wh-" Aislinn began, eyes searching the crowd for her mother, who looked equally taken aback.

Beckett stepped forward a little, "We, as representatives of House Trevelyan, would like to announce to you all that there is another member of our family who has yet to be acknowledged to the public."

"Aislinn Selanain," Cyrill grinned, arm sliding from his half-sister's waist and turning to look at her. He took her hands in his, grin wide as anything in his darker, scruffy face, "...we accept you as our sister, as the youngest living Trevelyan. We pledge House Trevelyan's lands, gold, and men to the Inquisition and will fight by your side until our dying breaths."

And, for the second time that day, Aislinn found herself crying because of her family. But this time, they were tears of joy unlike any other moment in her life. It may not have been proper or courtly behavior, but Aislinn threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around her brother, now acknowledged in front of half of the Ferelden court and some of the Orlesian, all but sobbing into his doublet. Beckett moved forward and wrapped his arms around her from the back and side, the Trevelyan boys holding their surviving sister until it became uncouth.

* * *

 

Aislinn was in shock for most of the rest of the evening, barely able to draw her attention away from the two handsome men that had just pledged their lives to her cause. She was acknowledged as nobility now, at least by her family. She had a  _family_. A whole family, that cared enough to tell the world that there was a bastard. She found herself worrying about Lady Lanya, but clearly the men would not harm their mother without her knowledge. She could only imagine the conversation that had taken place in Ostwick before the boys left.

She could not inherit land or titles, being both a mage and a bastard. Being half-elf would have probably gotten in the way too, but it didn't matter as much as the other two. Although the King was a bastard, he wasn't a mage. Maybe the outcome of the war would change things. It didn't matter, though. It didn't matter a whit to her if she never saw a piece of gold from the Trevelyan family, because they were _her_ family.

"Mother sent gifts," Beckett informed her as they settled against a wall off to the side, watching Ura dance with Cyrill. "I've had them brought to your room. Some of them were Evelynn's things and she wanted you to have them, but some of them are new. It was important to her that you were given them after we made the announcement."

"What would you have done if Josie hadn't decided to have this feast?"

"Who do you think gave her the idea?" Beckett chuckled, running a hand back through his shoulder-length dark hair. Aislinn rolled her eyes at him a little, slapping his shoulder gently in a way that she had not since she was a child.

A form came up beside her and she turned to see the form of Cullen in a set of court clothes of burgundy accented in the same yellow as her own dress. She curtsied slightly to him before he had a chance to bow to her.

"My Lady Inquisitor," Cullen smiled at her before he turned and nodded to Beckett, "Lord Trevelyan."

"Have you met?" Aislinn asked, glancing from one man to the other. Cullen and Beckett both nodded. "I assumed as much, Beckett being the brains of the army back home. Or so they tell me. Have you two had a chance to play chess? Beckett taught me practically before I could walk."

"In fact, we have," Beckett grinned, "And your friend Dorian? The three of us took turns beating each other."

A snort came from a little in front of them and Aislinn looked up to see Dorian, the sort of grin on his face bespeaking the fact that he had found some sort of insinuation in the statement her brother had uttered. She blushed  _for_ him and gave Dorian The Look before turning her attention back to Beckett.

"When you return, I will have to take the time to play again. I haven't had much of a chance lately."

"You should play with the Commander so you have a fighting chance, sister," Beckett smiled, glancing to the man he spoke of before looking back to the one he called sister. Aislinn's cheeks were red for this reason or that and her head was swollen with love when he used the same word Evelynn had to describe her for years.

"I'd like that," she finally managed, looking to the commander of her army. "If you wouldn't mind, of course."

"It would be my pleasure, Inquisitor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, her dress looks like this: http://indulgy.ccio.co/w/5A/33/il570xN310057720.jpg but dark brown rather than dark blue and yellow rather than light blue.


	8. Lights in the Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sad it's short, but...it's what's happening. Hopefully more tomorrow! Also this contains some game lines, manipulated and not.

The men left, leaving behind Ura and their soldiers along with promises to return. Aislinn had opened the presents the night before - a jewelry box full of Evelynn's family jewels, with a particular necklace included as a special present just for Aislinn. There were also many dresses, all of which would have to be taken in and hemmed, and a portrait of them as children that Aislinn didn't remember sitting for. A letter, too.  
  
 _Dearest Inquisitor,_  
  
 _I hope this letter finds you well, and after the news of your acceptance into our family. As you can imagine, this was a hard decision for us to make - although it was made easier by the passing of your half-sister. Had we known of your relationship with Evelynn for all of those years, perhaps we would have made up our minds sooner. It is no matter, what is done is done._  
  
 _You are not my daughter and I am not your mother, but you are the child of my husband and the sister to my children. For these reasons, and your own sweet personality, I love you as if you were family. I do not know if you hold me in contempt for being the reason that you were brought to the Circle all those years ago, but I hope you know that I did not send you away out of spite; I sent you for your own good, and I hope against hope that you know that._

 _Know that your father sends his love also and that he has been like a child on Satinalia since we decided to release the truth of your lineage to the world._  
  
 _You and your mother are always welcome at our home, Aislinn. I hope you enjoy the presents I have sent and I look forward to seeing you again some day. Stay safe and may the Make guide you._  
  
 _With Love,_  
L. Trevelyan  
  
  
Of all the things that she received, it was the letter that she most cherished. She left it folded in the drawer beside her bed so that she could read it every morning and night as she needed to. She would pack it with her spellbook for the rest of her life.

Having her mother around was a blessing and a curse; she had missed her mother more than she knew, but she had also grown accustomed to being an independent adult. Her mother, when not busy trying to run the staff into the ground as she was used to running a noble household, was content to tell Aislinn what this new development for her. She insisted that Josephine arrange for lessons to teach her daughter how to be a 'proper' lady. Fortunately, she was a little ahead of the curve due to Evelynn's own attempts earlier in her life; this meant that only  _most_ of her free time was dedicated to refining her speech and mannerisms. 

One day, about a month before the ball at the Winter Palace, Aislinn was able to run away from her mother and tutor into the grounds of the courtyard. She was surprised, and quite happy, to see Cullen and Dorian seated at one of the chess tables she had insisted be set up.

As she approached, Cullen stood, "Inquisitor," he spoke and Dorian grinned, "If you're leaving, does that mean I win?"

"Hush," Aislinn smiled at Dorian as she came to stand beside the table, waving Cullen to sit back down. "Don't mind me, I just came to watch. I'm running away from Mamae and my tutor. I am utterly sick of discussing dining utensils and dance steps for the day."

 "How ever did you get away from her? Your mother is fierce," Dorian responded, picking up a piece and moving it. "Hah! I've got you now, Commander."

Aislinn opened her mouth to point out a move but stopped herself; Cullen chose a different one. It would take longer to win, but he still had the advantage from her perspective. "I'm not so sure about that," the Commander responded. 

"Are you sassing me, Commander?" Dorian asked, chuckling a little as he lifted his own piece. 

"No, I'm beating you," he responded with a small, self-satisfied smile as he lifted the piece that would have won him the last round and winning the game. 

Dorian shook his head, standing from the table, "Don't get smart, or there'll be no living with you. He's all yours, Inquisitor. I have...ehh...something to attend to."

Aislinn looked at him hard for a moment, as he was obviously  _not_ saying something. Shrugging a little, she took up the chair that the Tevinter mage had vacated, sliding in across from Cullen before she looked up to the warrior. "I would love to play. If, of course, you are up to it, Commander."

"As you wish, Inquisitor."

"Aislinn."

"Cullen, then," he smiled as he reset the board and Dorian left, murmuring something under his breath that neither of them caught. "Your move first."

Aislinn took half a second before moving a piece out and settled back a little in her chair as she waited for her next turn. 

"So your brother taught you to play? My sister and I used to play when we were children. Or more, I should say, she used to beat me at it. I practiced with my brother for weeks before I finally bested her."

The Inquisitor smiled as he spoke, moving a piece when it was her turn even as he continued to speak. She took a moment when he finished and looked up, "How many siblings do you have? You've only mentioned your family once before, I think."

"Two sisters and a brother. We were from Honnleath, although my family lives in South Reach now. I haven't seen them for some time, between the Order and my duties here."

"You should," she murmured, an offer and not a condemnation. "It is...rejuvenating. Dancing with my brothers was like being a child again, even before they told me..." She paused, lost in thought as she stared over the chess board.

"Aislinn? Are you all right?"

She sat back, snapping her head up and showing off a small smile. "Yes. Sorry. I still have a heard time believing...well, I'm noble now. It's...so strange."

"Strange how?"

"I have always been...well, nothing much special. First a half-blood, then a servant, then a mage."

"...Then the Herald, then the Inquisitor," Cullen continued for her, chuckling a little. "A noble title should seem small in comparison, I would think."

"I suppose you're right, da'len," she shrugged a little, moving a piece that would delay her victory in an effort to give him a chance. "Was it a surprise to you, meeting my mother?"

"I knew immediately," he grinned at her, "You look just like her."

"Well, not just," she responded, tugging a little at her rounded ears. "But thank you."

"Your move," he said and she jumped slightly, reaching her arm out to slid a piece forward. 

They were silent for some time, then made small talk. They spoke about his childhood and hers. Aislinn did everything she could to elongate the game.

"I think," Cullen spoke after a moment, sitting back to signify that it was her turn again, "that this is the longest we have gone without speaking about the Inquisition."

"It's nice," she responded with a smile, looking across the table and into his eyes. "I think we ought to do it more often."

"I appreciate the distraction. I would...like that."

"As would I, Cullen."

He murmured something quietly and Aislinn could not hear it. She assumed that she was not meant to, and so did not press him. They continued on in silence for a moment before Aislinn realized that her mother would come looking for her if she did not return soon. She pushed the pieces on her turn, moving them and manipulating them before she practically forced the winning move into his hand.

"It would appear that I win," Cullen commented as he moved his final piece into place. He had another small, self-satisfied grin on his features. 

"It would appear so," Aislinn mirrored his expression. "I think we will have to make this a regular occurrence until I am able to beat you, or else Beckett will surely laugh at me when he and I next play."

"Of course, Aislinn," the Commander continued to smile as he moved to take care of the pieces. "It was lovely, thank you for your company."

"I agree. I really must go, though, or Mamae will come looking for me and no one will be spared her wrath," Aislinn laughed and stood, turning to leave. She hesitated and turned back around, "Would you like to go for a walk this evening, Commander?"

"W-with you?" Cullen stammered, looking up at her from his sitting position. "I mean, yes. Yes, of course."

"Perfect. I will come find you this evening when I am released from the bonds of tutelage," Aislinn laughed again and Cullen chuckled as she waved a little, turning and jogging across the courtyard to find her way back to her rooms. 


	9. A Measure of Its Living Flesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait and also that it's short. I just wanted to update so that everyone knew I was still alive. More to come eventually, working LOADS of overtime this week so who knows when.

The sun was beginning to set, the peaks of the mountain range tickling its round bottom as Aislinn knocked on the Commander's closed door. He called for her to come in and so she did, the room empty save for the warrior in plainclothes.  
  
Aislinn opted for a plain dress herself, one of the less ostentatious of those that Lady Trevelyan had sent to her. It was the same deep yellow that often graced her outfits, although she rarely wore it on its own. The silk of the gown fell like water from her shoulders and left little to the imagination, even with the slip she wore over her underthings.  
  
When she entered the Commander's quarters, she saw him slide a wooden box form atop his desk. She could feel the hum of the lyrium in the air, so used to it was she. Aislinn smiled at Cullen as he stepped around form behind his desk and sheepishly grinned as he offered her his arm. She took it with a similar facial expression and let him lead her out onto the battlements.  
  
"It's a lovely evening," Cullen spoke as his side warmed her, their arms still interlocked. She had not made to drop his and so he did not take it upon himself to do so either. If she was comfortable, so was he. "I mean...the...sunset is quite nice."  
  
Aislinn smiled at him a little, raising an eyebrow as she turned her head to look over the low wall. "It is, isn't it? I do have to say, the view from my room is magnificent. You haven't seen it yet, have you?"

"I..I...no, no I haven't," he stammered his response and when Aislinn looked back to his face, it had reddened considerably.   
  
"Perhaps we could have dinner on the balcony some time, a late one. Or a particularly early breakfast. I prefer sunrise, to be honest with you."

Cullen seemed quite taken aback by the recommendation, although the innocence in her voice suggested to him that she did not know exactly what sort of idea she was putting into his head. "Of course," he finally managed to squeak out, "I'd like that very much."

"Cullen," Aislinn spoke quietly after a moment, removing her arm from his as she stopped walking, turning to face his side. Instinctively he moved so that he was facing her, effectively pinning her against one of the wall's merlons. "I...I hope that I am not completely wrong in thinking that..." She stopped, sighing heavily. "There is verse from the Chant that reminds me of you every time I hear it."  
  
The Inquisition's commander hesitated, first quite excited and then slightly confused when she mentioned the Chant. He offered a small smile and nodded his head as if to suggest that she continue.  
  
"Blessed are they who stand before  
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."  
  
Aislinn finished, lifting a hand as it shook lightly to lay lightly against his chest. It was warm and solid, like most everything about the older man before her. The slight intake of air from Cullen had her lifting it away but he quickly caught it in one of his own and held it there. "Why...does it remind you of me?" he asked, suppressing the urge to pull her closer.  
  
"That's what you are. A champion of the just. You have stood against many awful things, from the tales I have heard, and you are still this... _magnificent_ man. And you never falter."

"Not never," he corrected, frowning a little despite the color on his face again at her compliments. "But I...thank you."  
  
"Thank  _you_ , Cullen," she squeezed her hand at her side into a fist before relaxing it and lifted it to join its sister. "For everything you have done here. And for...being so kind to me."

"No one has ever...called me 'magnificent' before," he grinned a little, his hand useless at his side. "Aislinn... You said something about worrying about being wrong in thinking something. What is it that you are thinking?"

She was silent for a long moment, eyes searching his. She squeezed his hand gently before removing her hands from him and turning, moving to lean into the space of am embrasure. She sighed a little and looked out over the horizon, her voice quiet as she faced away. "I care about you, Cullen. I am afraid that...I am simply afraid, I suppose."

"Don't be," he responded, standing with his arm resting along the raised stone. "Aislinn, look at me."

She stood, straightening her spine and moving a little closer, the two of them both half in front of the merlon he had been leaning against. He lifted warm hand and hesitated it near her cheek, at which point she leaned herself into his touch. They both, albeit very quietly, sighed a small breath of relief at the feeling.  "I have thought about being in this sort of situation with you more often than I should admit."

"Why haven't you said anything?" she asked as he let his hand fall away, the two of them just dancing around each other as neither of them reached out to touch the other in those moments.

"You're the Inquisitor and we're at war. I am...you are practically half my age and so..." he stopped, shaking his head and lifting a hand to run through his hair. "Perfect."

Aislinn blushed and turned away a little before shifting back to look at him. "Hardly perfect, although I do appreciate the kind words. And you needn't be so hard on yourself. I am certainly more than half of your age. Sixteen years, I think," she paused before waving a hand dismissively. "I knew at one point but I have since forgotten as it is not important to me. Unless...it is to you?"

Cullen looked taken aback at the idea briefly before he shook his head vigorously. "Not...not at all. I merely thought...certainly there are recruits closer in age."

"They are not you," she responded, "they are not my champion."

The Commander, battle-hardened and life-worn as he was, could not suppress the urge any longer when those words left her lips. He turned them as he settled his hands on her hips, pressing her back against the stone of the wall and holding her to him all in the same movement. His lips found hers in a display of passion he had not known himself capable of. When he kissed her, she found that her heart was in her throat and, after a moment, his tongue was in her mouth.

Aislinn had not kissed anyone before, at least not in a romantic fashion, and was both enthralled and confounded at it. It burned her to her core to have him so close and all she wanted was more of him, although it was he that broke the kiss after a moment. 

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his face inches from hers. "That was...quite nice."

"Don't be sorry," she responded in a sigh, feeling warm all over a she looked up at him with stars in her eyes. "Please, Cullen, don't ever be sorry about something like that."

"Did you like it, then?" he chuckled a little, one hand curving along her neck and tilting her head a little before he leaned closer. She breached the gap between them then, pressing her lips to his an closing her eyes as she snaked her arms over his shoulders to pull them closer together.

  
 

  
  



End file.
